


Rediscovery (A Zutara Week 2016 Fic)

by Eastonia



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker!Zuko, Blacksmith Zuko, Epic Toph (in flashbacks), F/M, Gen, Sassy Katara, Zutara, Zutara Week 2016, zkweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastonia/pseuds/Eastonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you first meet someone, you form an impression of them. When you re-meet an estranged friend, you have to rediscover both new and changed bits and pieces of them. Sometimes, it might push you away and others? It might just bring you together. A quiet-ish story of how Katara stumbled (back) into Zuko's life, how they remember, how they recover and how they grow back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zutara Week is something of a challenge for me. Also, warning, it gets ramble-ly. Also (warning the second), I like using alternative interpretations of the prompt words.

_'_ _Large, imposing reptiles which may or may not breathe fire and are capable of flight.'_

_'A slang term used in reference to the Triad groups.'_

* * *

If you had told the Zuko of six years ago that he would, essentially, run away from everything he knew and was working for. He would have raged.

If you had told the Zuko of three years ago the same thing. He would have sighed wearily and pointed at the massive amounts of work he still had left to do. He had shareholders to please, quotas to fill and jobs to create.

If you had told the Zuko of two years ago the same thing, he would have looked extremely contemplative.

...

Sparks flew as Zuko shaped hot metal.

A year and eleven months ago, he called up his uncle. Briefed him on his intentions on becoming a silent partner and promptly, (once he had obtained his uncle's blessings of course), upped and left the technological empire that his family had been building for what seemed like _forever_.

And you know what?

Zuko was happy – well, as happy as any recluse could be.

Zuko glanced back at the schematics of the commissioned sculpture and plunged the worked bronze into water. Steam hissed as metal cooled and Zuko checked the clock and nodded.

It was time for a break.

…

Once upon a time Zuko lived in the penthouse just above the headquarters of his, well, empire.

A year and eleven months ago, he impulse bought a refurbished, restored farmhouse. Far enough from the city that it would be considered 'country' and close enough to the city that it wouldn't take too long to reach his uncle in case of an emergency. (Oh how Zuko worried for his uncle).

It had an attached barn, which he promptly turned into a scrap metal (and metal storage-in-general) warehouse and stables. Part of these stable had been turned into a garage but the restorer had left the old smithy as-is.

It gave Zuko something to do when he first moved in – reviving the Tudor-dated smithy.

...

Backtrack one hundred years.

Three generations. Ozai. Azulon. Sozin.

It started with barely-legal acquisitions of smaller companies affiliated with San Industries. Like Foh Tech, it had been around forever. And then, in a surprise upset – Rlung Ltd (another been-around-for-generations company) was bought out.

Completely.

Many suspected foul play. But what could they do? Sozin was a clever man, and Foh Tech just kept growing.

...

Backtrack even further. Three hundred years before Zuko decided to up and leave, there were a pair of twins.

As they grew differences in opinion and methods caused their father to split what was then known as Tajik Co. into two separate inheritances. This caused the rise of the highly insular banking and insurance company known as Vatn Trusts and an extremely open, progressive trading company called Wai Inc.

...

Sozin retired, Azulon took over and around sixty years (give or take) before Zuko up and left, Foh Tech turned their sights upon the successors of Tajik Co.

Because of the nature of Vatn Trusts, Azulon brokered a secret deal. It was the do-as-I-say-or-there-will-be-consequences type of deal.

Because of the nature of Wai Inc. Azulon set about buying up as much of them as possible. But in some ways, they were expecting it. Wai Inc. had to now limp where it once strode – but unlike Rlung Ltd, it survived.

...

Sozin made several ruthless, barely-legal decisions.

Azulon had a habit of flirting just over the knife's edge of legality. Several of his decisions erred on the side of criminal. And that was how the triads got involved.

Ozai was a Dragon Master. The lord of the Triads.

...

Eight years before Zuko up and left, the world had grown desperate.

The Rlung family wasn't gone – not quite. But when Aang Rlung, at the tender age of twelve, accidentally hacked his way into finding the not quite right stuff Foh Tech was dealing with, he ended up in witness protection. And then suddenly he was a recruit in a massive take-down-the-leader-of-the-Triads operation.

The next two recruits were Sokka and Katara Wai (it had been a year later. Aang was thirteen and the Wai siblings were three and two years older respectively). Sokka was discovered to be something of a teenage engineering genius, and thus, a threat to Foh Tech's position as the greatest advancer of technology. Several kidnapping (and silencing) attempts had been made, directly towards him and his sister. And so, into protection and the weird take-down team they went.

Katara didn't seem too special at first. She wasn't interested in hacking or inventing. But she had the steadiest hand anyone had ever seen. And six months later, when Aang and Sokka fainted from blood and _almost-dismembered body parts_ , she stitched the toes back on a girl who had, when her _parents_ were kidnapped in order to bring Bei Fong Stocks to heel, somehow busted her way through Foh Tech security and Triad members to rescue them. Katara saved her toes – they work as normal. But Katara's second, greater ability would become apparent later – and it was her ability to just, _talk_.

Toph needed no mentioning. She was the girl who ended up in protection (separated from her parents) because she had (with only training from _Surviving Disaster_ of all things) successfully evaded her family's attackers (she climbed from the back seat into the trunk through a little hole), manipulated the members of the Triad with a poor, little, lost blind girl act (well, she was very nearly blind, without her contacts or glasses… or goggles). And then upon freeing her parents, gotten them out and into a vehicle. Somehow remaining intact – except for the grenade that nearly took her toes off and blasted the vehicle's boot cover off.

They had in their team, the Brawn (Toph), the Tech (Sokka), the Hacker (Aang) and the Brain (Katara). What they didn't have was firepower, or in-situation stealth, or insider knowledge.

One year later they did.

…

Five years and a bit ago, Zuko had a little crisis of loyalty. To his father. And sister.

Turns out they hid the more unsavoury portions of what the family company did away from him. He knew nothing of his father being the reigning Dragon Master that brought the various 'dragons' of the Triads to organised heel. He knew nothing of his sister climbing surely and violently up the ranks of the 'Dragon Court' – enforcing their father's orders, putting fear into the hearts of those who would later sell their company to add to the Foh Tech empire.

Unfortunately for Ozai Foh, his heir (only in name, everyone knew Azula was heir in all but) was born with a _conscience_.

The day Zuko disappeared, he managed to swipe the further plans of Foh Tech (and because this was _Zuko_ , Ozai and Azula suspected nothing). That same day he turned up at his uncle's, and Iroh couldn't have been prouder.

…

Zuko didn't join them straight away. No. Zuko was seventeen, and the government was desperate for anyone without any loyalty to the Triads to join their cause. So they trained him.

Nine months after Zuko's disappearance and subsequent training under the WHL0 department of the government, he joined the little task force team – not that they knew they were going to be task force operatives at the time.

He was very much surprised to discover that of the members of the team, he was the eldest.

But that's a story for another day.

…

Two years later, Zuko was nineteen (Sokka was eighteen, Katara was seventeen and so on and so forth), and he was stuck trying to clean up and hold together a shaky economical empire.

Somehow, he did it. He cleaned up Foh Tech, restored company growth (with everything now firmly operating in the _legal_ side of things) and got a University degree (online of course, he was too busy to actually have the University experience).

All while heavily corresponding with Katara in order to ask her advice on how to handle such-and-such situation. (She _understood_ people and situations in a way he didn't).

…

But that was that.

Wai Inc. was run primarily by Hakoda Wai. It had survived and now it thrived. Sokka had started to gear his innovations to gaming and there was a joint venture between Foh and Wai to facilitate this developing market.

Sokka was mainly a silent partner. Because sixty percent of all boardroom negotiations were now conducted by Katara.

And she was tired.

…

When the dragons fell, the warriors thought they could rest.

Lofty dreams.

…

Katara Wai, feared in boardrooms throughout the world as 'the Negotiator' took a sabbatical.

It had nothing to do with the fact Toph and Aang were finally entering University (something the eldest of them hadn't been able to do physically). Or the fact Sokka was complaining that his best friend hadn't been calling back in a while. Or the fact Zuko had been off-radar for nearly two years.

Okay.

Maybe the last one.

…

Zuko had never thought that he could be content. (Happy was a little too much to ask for). But content? He could possibly achieve (even if it seemed impossible at times).

And you know what? He did.

With his little smithy, working with metals, crafting them into sculptures and jewellery. Living commission to commission (despite or rather, maybe because of his all-together needed and necessary double bachelors in economics and law). Living in the countryside. Every now and then feeding the various waterfowl that came to visit his backyard pond.

Admittedly, it was a bit lonely.

Which was why (since the upper portion of the house was already like a separate flat and all), he decided to let.

…

When one decides to run away from society, one must know where they are running to.

All Katara really knew was that she wanted to paint, write – anything that wasn't somewhat medically or company-related.

That's when she noticed the AirBnB listing. It was extremely awkward. Like someone didn't tell him or her that this wasn't exactly the appropriate site for long-term tenants – more for holidaymakers.

Katara paused awhile and remembered another extremely awkward, positively dorky at times, young man.

It was impulse, but she certainly had the money. She booked the flat for a year.

…

Zuko placed the final touches on the pair of western-styled dragons when his doorbell rang.

Wiping his hands free of the polishing oil on a rag, he answered the door. His tenant was due to arrive today anyways.

"Hello I'm…"

"Zuko?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW I'm still looking for someone to collab with me (illustrate this and such). Pretty please?
> 
> Also, small little (and overt) easter eggs in there for anyone who's looking.
> 
> Also, I drew from different languages in order to get the names of the 'companies' our characters are affiliated with.
> 
> 'Foh' - Cantonese for fire
> 
> 'San' - Mandarin for mountain (basically, earth)
> 
> 'Rlung' - Tibetan for wind (ergo, air)
> 
> 'Taijik' means water. I forgot which language I drew it from (It just might be Persian). But… 'Vatn' is Nordic for water (Northern Water Tribe) while 'Wai' is the Maori form of water (Southern Water Tribe).
> 
> I've crossposted this on FF.net and tumblr (my main tumblr is rather disappointing, mind you)...
> 
> Happy Zutara Week everybody! (Anyone else inwardly chuckling about how this ship is still so vibrant over five years on?)
> 
> Cheers,  
> Eastonia


	2. Reincarnation

_A new version of something from the past.’_

* * *

It had been nearly two years (actually make that a year, eleven months, thirteen days and approximately ten hours – not that she was counting) since Katara had spoken to Zuko. It had been over two years (two years, five months, three days and twenty hours – no really, who _was_ counting, _certainly_ not Katara) since she had last seen him in person.

Which was why is was entirely appropriate that the old, easy friendship of Katara and Zuko was reincarnated as, well, a right hook to his scarred eye.

“Ow.”

…

Katara glared at Zuko she shoved the frozen peas onto the rapidly blackening eye.

“Shut it Anakin Skywalker. You deserved that.”

So it was a little unfair to call the eye scarred, not that Zuko didn’t have a scar. He did – a deep, thick, red, keloidal thing that refused to fade. It ran from the corner of his left eyebrow, just beside the left eye, down to the edge of his lower left earlobe. Almost like someone tried to slice a quarter of his head off (and failed, somewhat miserably, it was more like an eighth). Hence the Anakin Skywalker reference (except you know, it was on the left instead of the right).

The funny thing is that Zuko had been wandering around with said scar for a year before he uncovered what his father and sister moonlighted as. It was utter irony that he only figured out that the kidnapping situation that gave him his scar was entirely orchestrated by them – after he ran away and joined the WHL0. His kidnapping had done its job in removing suspicion from Foh Tech (somewhat). Ozai and Azula had played the part of the worried, desperate family very, very well.

“You left. You know, I knew Aang and Toph were prone to doing so but you? I expected better.”

Katara tapped her foot impatiently on the ground, in full on lecture mode.

“You left. No number, no contact, no ‘hey, I’m going under the radar for a good long while’. _Who was it that lectured us on knowing where our group members were at all times?_ Oh that’s right. You.”

Zuko winced.

“Katara.”

“No. You don’t get to talk. You left. You left me with Aang’s confused ‘where’s Zuko?’s’. You left me with Toph grumbling about you missing her graduation from A-Level college (by the way, she received three A*s and a B). You left me with Sokka (who for your information is still wondering if your bromance is dying, you better thank high heaven for Suki).”

“Katara.”

“You left me without my best friend.”

They froze. Katara was panting slightly from her little rant and Zuko just sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Zuko. I never took you for a coward – I still don’t. But I never thought you’d become a hypocrite. You were obsessed with making everyone check in. All the time. And then you went against your own rule.”

Zuko remained silent as Katara finally slumped onto the breakfast alcove bench next to him. A couple minutes passed in an awkward-comfortable sort of silence before he finally spoke.

“You know – I realised, we never got to be teenagers. Not us. Not properly. Sokka, Aang, Toph, they got somewhat of a semblance of an adolescence. We basically leapt into the roles assigned for us and forged ahead. We missed out on an entire period of figuring out who we are.”

“So you decided to cut yourself off from everyone you knew and run away?”

“No.”

“Oh _really_?”

“I talk to uncle Iroh over the weekend.”

Another pause.

“So _that’s_ why he’s been telling us that he _knows_ that you’re alright. How’d get him to not tell us where you are?”

Zuko just shrugged. In truth, he had expected the team to come crashing into his quiet little existence for some time now. He had been rather surprised that they didn’t during the first two months of the ‘Great Disappearing Act’, and maybe a little depressed and lonely. Truthfully, a couple of years ago he may have thrown quite the tantrum about it, now he was just… disappointed.

“Don’t you shrug at me.”

Zuko sighed. “I told him I needed to get away from it all. Just away from, well, you know? And having to deal with all that boardroom mess was draining. And so I told him I wanted a break. How was I supposed to know he decided it meant from everyone too? Now,” he continued as he pulled out a bowl and dumped the defrosting peas in, “Don’t you want to see your flat?”.

Katara resisted the urge to drop her head in her hand (honestly, it was a fondly exasperated action that only members of their Team could evoke in her). “Yes. But about that. Zuko. You don’t list a yearlong contract on AirBnB. Didn’t you read the contract?”

“Ummm… Kind of?”

“You scanned the thing didn’t you.”

“I might have.”

“Zuko…”

“I came here to escape needing to read contracts in depth on a daily basis! Now come on. The flat’s this way.”

…

When Zuko bought the property he didn’t actually realise that he didn’t have an upstairs. Not until he ran into a small walled off area that jutted into the floorplan downstairs.

The trouble with putting all his focus into the smithy was that he actually forgot that there was an actual traditional front door from the original design, and not the modified front door (which was more a side door really) that was the closer of the two to the smithy.

This is where he led Katara.

“As I mentioned in the ad,” he said while opening the front door and climbing the stairs, “It’s a first floor flat, separated from my own living area. Also…” He flung open the floor length curtains. “It has quite the view.”

Katara said nothing. Because he was right. Her main living area had a clear view of both the large pond and the rolling hills. It was peaceful – suddenly she could understand why Zuko thought it was easier to rest here.

And suddenly she had plans other than ‘laze around and see if anything comes up’.

“Hey Zuko.”

“Yes?”

“Is there an art supply shop somewhere in the village here?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today. Am still looking for that collab partner. In other news, my trend of alternative interpretation of words continued! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Eastonia


	3. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By far my longest chapter this week so far (could I say how tiring it was coming up with a chapter a day?)
> 
> Anyways, today I break my trend of using an unusual interpretation of the theme and just go with it. (It was nice while it lasted).
> 
> Hope you enjoy (and now I'm wondering if I should give up all hope of a collab partner).
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Eastonia

_'Something remembered from the past; a recollection.'_

* * *

About two weeks into the tenancy the new-old relationship-friendship-thing settled and already new-old patterns and routines had formed.

The nearby village did indeed have art supplies and Katara returned from it armed with two different sized easels and a complete arsenal of acrylic paints (and charcoals, and colour pencils and, well, you get the picture).

Every morning, she’d get up and put the kettle on for tea. About fifteen minutes later she’d hear the ringing of metal striking metal. Zuko had always been up and working the earliest of the five of them (Katara never counted Suki, not because she wasn’t a core part of the Team but because Suki led her own ‘strike-force’ and so spent most of her time away from the Team) back in those days. That hadn’t changed.

But other things, little things, had.

While he was still up before her, he no longer acted as something of a human alarm clock. (He had this nasty habit – that continued into their days as working adults/other-end-of-their-teens-students – of calling them up every morning. That first day he disappeared, they all overslept. And did so for a good month or so before one of them remembered that their phones could actually perform the alarm function).

The perpetual worry lines were gone too – well, not gone, but greatly minimised. But enough about the things that had changed.

Let’s talk about the things that didn’t. Like how Zuko was still an awkward dork...

...

Five years, one month and two days ago: a rather awkward, unsure but determined (oh there are several words stronger that could have been slotted in there) young man, fresh out of WHL0 training stood sheepishly at the door of their little safe house. She didn’t open the door.

“Hello Zuko here,” he began (speaking into the intercom) – oh she could already tell that this wasn’t going to be pretty, “Uh... I’m guessing that they told you of my arrival? Sort of? Maybe? Uh...”

Katara raised an eyebrow at his blundered introductions, not that she forgot that while she could see him, he couldn’t see her – okay, maybe she did. And she didn’t say a word.

She just watched him as he grew more and more flustered before he backed away from the door and turned around (later she would find out that he was trying to psyche himself up, and they would laugh) and then came back to the door just to recite an obviously standardised, militaristic, robotic-sounding introduction into the intercom.

“… Permission to enter sir!”

That was that. Katara had to intervene.

“Who _are_ you talking to?”

The soldierly veneer he had been projecting crumpled.

“Uh... Um. Sorry miss. I must have had the wrong address. Uh. Um. I’ll be going now.”

And well, Katara (who had finally decided that this bumbling fellow wasn’t a threat) spoke.

“This is Miss Wai here.”

And thus began a mess where: Zuko confusedly wondered where the other members of his squad was, Katara yelling at him about this being witness protection and a safehouse, Zuko arguing back that WHL0 had assigned him to a team here, Katara making scathing remarks about her perception of his intelligence – in combination with a cutting remark about him blindly following orders. Said mess was only sorted out back then by the arrival of Iroh bearing explanations.

Okay, strike that.

Katara may have lunged at Zuko’s throat as soon as she learnt who he was (introductions don’t exactly include a look at the family tree), screaming her head off about her mother.

This (along with meeting Toph) would firmly cement the beginnings of Zuko’s belief (formed by his sister and her friends) that all females were crazy – and (later) that Sokka was an extremely lucky man (because calm, level-headed, reasonable, _rational_ Suki was obviously the only exception to the rule).

To Zuko’s credit, he did manage to dodge the attack. And he did so while apologising constantly (for what he didn’t know, but self-preservation was telling him to do so anyway) and backing away from her continued attacks.

Which made Katara even madder.

...

Honestly, it was comforting that the awkwardness was still there. Boardroom Zuko had been _much_ smoother, if only because she had been quietly coaching him on ‘how not to suck at conversing with people’.

Katara smiled as she opened her sketchbook. It was still free from drawings (for now) but she didn’t mind. She had her routine with Zuko to continue.

Which was why her first two pages of said sketch pad were dedicated to entirely random grocery lists. Zuko (yet another thing that stayed the same) had a habit of forgetting to eat from time to time when he got heavily focused on a project.

Like now.

Shortly after he sent off those hollow-bronze dragons, another commission came in. And for some reason he was obsessed. Before the commission came in (as Katara noted), he would break around eleven-thirty in the morning to cook his lunch, eat and clean up before heading back in to the smithy around an hour later.

(Admittedly… Zuko becoming a blacksmith? That completely blindsided Katara).

After the commission arrived he didn’t emerge for his regular lunch break. But Katara (with all the knowledge and experience of someone who had handled this before in deal season) was ready the next day when it continued.

She met Zuko at his front door with a pot of stew.

And so began ‘lunchtime recollection time’. But he still wouldn’t tell her why he was so obsessed (and maybe a little upset) with his latest commission.

Katara snapped her book closed and decided that today she’d make cream of tomato.

…

A couple of hours later, at eleven, Katara was finishing up on the soup when a bang rang through the two flats.

Followed by a period of silence, then two more steady thuds.

Something she forgot about Zuko (because these past three years she had – one, not borne witness to it in so long and two, he couldn’t exactly excuse himself whenever he felt like the cup that was his emotions was going to ‘runneth over’) was that he emotion-baked.

...

Four years, eleven months and three days ago Katara collapsed on the couch of their safe house, spent. Zuko had intercepted her as she tried to sneak out with the information they had recently obtained detailing the attack that took her mother away from her and sent them (Sokka and Katara) into witness protection (and subsequently the Team).

He followed her as she hunted _him_ down and given _him_ the talking to of a lifetime that practically sent _him_ into curled up foetal position, sobbing (making Zuko really, really glad that he was never subjected to her full complete ire). As they came back Katara had shyly thanked Zuko for supporting her and fully agreed to them being friends, which caused a – frankly adorkable – slightly crooked grin to light up his face.

And the smell of something warm and delicious – and oh so chocolate-ty wafted in from the kitchen. Curious, Katara followed her nose to find a tray of dark biscuits cooling just under a fan.

“Careful.”

She (very nearly) jumped, at the quiet, husky, voice.

“Zuko! Don’t scare me like that!” She paused, “What _are_ you doing?”

Zuko shrugged in a puzzled fashion, mixing in the oats.

“Baking?”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know. It’s calming. Now – dark chocolate, oat, crystallised ginger biscuit? I think they might be cool enough to handle now.”

Katara picked up one. Like Zuko said, it was still warm, but no longer unpleasantly so. As she took her first bite she suppressed the ‘oh-my-goodness-this-is-so-good’ moan and mumbled around it, “You stress bake?”

Zuko smiled again, this one was a quieter one than the other one she saw. A distant, half-formed thought in her mind occurred that she wanted to learn all of Zuko’s smiles and how to evoke them, but she was too distracted by the warm biscuit in hand and that half-formed, distant thought flitted away.

“Technically I emotion bake. When I get happy I kind of just want to spread the happy around. You know? And yeah, stress baking is more productive than wallowing (although I do more breads than desserts when I’m mad.)”

Katara snorted around her sixth bite of biscuit (it was a large biscuit okay). “Never would have pegged you as one though.”

“Shows what you know.”

“So what’s the occasion?” She asked.

He stamped out the last cookie and laid it on the tray, before removing the now baked third tray and setting it beneath the fan. He looked at her, the quiet smile gone shy.

“We’re friends.”

...

Plaited, garlic-ky, cheese bread twists. While delicious and frankly, amazing when paired with cream of tomato (and cream of wild mushroom, and cream of chicken and… well amazing with a lot of cream-based soups), meant that something was heavily weighing on Zuko’s mind.

Also, he’d brought out the _big_ guns when it came to cheese. When making the cheese twists, Katara knew Zuko had something of a system that subtly told those ‘in the know’ at what level of frustration or hurt or stress he was at.

Emmental, Sharp Cheddar and Wensleydale with cranberries meant – ‘Gah! I’m just a little exasperated!’

Brie, Harvarti and Ricotta (substituting mascarpone for the butter in the recipe) – ‘I feel worn.’

And today, it was: Mozzarella, Nguri, Esrom and aged goat’s cheese – which he then laid heavy amounts of Brunost on top of to melt over and finish. That meant ‘Prod me gently, because I’m about to burst’.

The greater the amount of cheese variation in the twists, the more stressed (you would think it would be the other way around, but Zuko liked to be contrary).

“Hey.” She said.

“Hey.” He sighed in reply. “Twists will be done in about twenty minutes, just put them in the oven.”

“Great, I’ll heat up the soup.”

Silence continued as Katara slowly brought up the soup to a boil, serving it when Zuko pulled out the twists. As they picked at the meal she looked up at him and said. “So?”

Zuko took a deep breath and pulled out a printed out email for Katara to read through. There was a certain irony in the commission. Sokka had just requested his ‘best bro’ to craft an engagement ring for Suki, and Sokka didn’t even know that it was his ‘best bro’ making it.

And yes, Katara was a little hurt that Sokka hadn’t told her about it first.

“You know what? Let’s think about something else.”

“Like what?” Zuko asked (a little whiplashed by the sudden change in atmosphere).

“Like.. Oh I don’t know… The day we stopped the crazy aka the day we sent your sister to get the help she needs?”

...

Three years, eleven months and a day ago the Team went into action without Aang (the teen codenamed ‘the Avatar’ due to his hacking prowess had fallen ill, and his medication kept knocking him out. All of them had codenames assigned to them – ‘Blind Bandit’, ‘Kyoshi Leader’, ‘Painted Lady’, ‘Blue Spirit’… Sokka had initially been assigned ‘Starwolf’ but had complained about his need for individuality and somehow had thus ended up with the codename (of all things) ‘MeatAndSarcasm’).

They had to drastically change the way the takedown would happen without the Avatar’s hacking prowess.

So Katara and Zuko (in their mission uniforms that hid their identities pretty well – no, the government did not want people to know that WHL0 had recruited _minors_ ) had went after Azula instead. Zuko to help Katara infiltrate and watch her back, Katara to _talk_.

It was a slow process, but by the time they got to Azula, hundreds of triad members had (through Katara’s sheer force of persuasion bad-arsery) given themselves up, promising a huge well of information and evidence against Ozai and Azula Foh (they were pretty keen on saving Foh Tech itself. Many, many informants had, after all, come from within the company).

But Azula was one of those rare people whom Katara’s forces of verbal persuasion did very little. In fact, Zuko (who had been guarding the door to let Katara do her work) ended up having to tackle his sister to the ground when she pulled out a knife (which, should have been the sign – to him at least – that something was off, any other time she would have pulled out the gun).

A struggle occurred between the siblings as Katara tried to get a clear shot of Azula with her tranq dart pistol, and this particular standoff would have continued if not for a tired, somewhat hoarse voice coming over the speakers of Azula’s desktop.

“Hi. I’m the Avatar. And what’s this?”

What followed subsequently was the data mining of practically _all_ the illegal stuff Ozai and Azula got involved in. And as that happened, Azula started to crack. But instead of exploding outwards, she seemed to retreat inwards.

But she didn’t fully break until Zuko pulled off his mask.

...

And Zuko still blames himself (somewhat) for it.

But it did the trick, they weren’t thinking too hard about the engagement ring Zuko had  to forge now. After all, it could have been that her brother was merely getting the ring in order to start working up some nerve!

When Katara relayed this to Zuko he paused.

“You know, I never thought of it that way. And that does seem very Sokka-ish.”

“See?”

“And normally my clients send me the description of the stones they want for the jewellery pieces and I have to buy them and add them to my final price. Sokka did ramble about not knowing what the stone should be just yet.”

“See!”

“And we both know that Sokka is pretty much crap at drawing. But he didn’t even include an attachment of one of his…”

They shared a glance at each other as Katara picked up his sentence, injecting it with as much ‘posh’ disgust as she could

“ _Grand designs_?”

They laughed. And the memories faded just a little in favour of the new one forming in the present.


	4. Lilac(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got a pretty funny story to tell. Partway through Zutara Week, my family conducted an intervention and packed us off (because they needed it too) to Digital Detox. No phones, no tablets, no computers. No tech except the communal record player. It sucked. And it rocked. I’m confused. It’s freeing, but at the same time highly isolatory. And worst of all, since this was pretty much sprung on me I didn’t remember to bring along a notepad and pen to jot things down!
> 
> Not much of an excuse. But I’ll carry on with the week. The chapter will be uploaded on the days (somewhat) they should have been last week.
> 
> Also, the shortest chapter I've written for Zutara Week. Double upload today.

_Lilacs in the language of flowers:_

_‘A representation of the firm confidence the giver has in the receiver.’_

_‘I have faith in you.’_

_‘The first realisation of love.’_

* * *

Katara moved into her (well, technically Zuko’s but she was renting) little countryside flat at the start of March.

Just over two months later in late spring, sprays of light to pale purple blooms started popping up around the garden near the pond. Katara very nearly squealed (externally, she was squealing internally). Lilacs ranked among her favourite flowers. Both for herself to enjoy and to send as gifts.

Her sketchbook was now riddled with little notes and lopsided drawings, but she was getting better.

“Hey!” Zuko’s voice knocked Katara of her musings.

She opened her bedroom window, which coincidentally overlooked the rather picturesque smithy, to yell back down at him.

“What?”

“First farmer’s market of the month’s tomorrow. Want to come with? I heard the chippy is getting excited about the new peas that are coming in.”

Katara had quickly picked up that the locals here clung rather tightly to their self-sustainability. Produce was mainly seasonal items and, this being inland, most of the fish was river-caught. She had never tasted bream, perch, pike or carp before moving here. (Zuko had laughed about it when they had gone to buy a fish dinner and she couldn’t recognise any of the fishes on offer. Turns out that due to his heritage, the unfamiliar textures of the fishes were all too familiar to him. _Oriental-Asians_.)

But she had to admit, she had come to love the village chippy’s fruit cider battered carp, with their rustic chips (which always had enough vinegar), and mushy peas with the hint of mint.

“Yeah I’ll come with! But why ask me today?”

“Loading up bric‘a’brac for the market.”

Katara mentally face-palmed. Last month, Katara had shown up at Zuko’s doorstep with lunch and no matter how much she screamed he simply would not come out. It was only by chance (during one of her silent periods when her righteous indignation died down a little) that she heard her phone ringing frantically, delivering her an explanation.

Zuko’s main ‘allowance’ he gave himself (never mind he had the entre wealth of Foh Tech behind him) came from the commissions he received online and, apparently from the mini sculptures and bits and pieces of jewellery (bespoke or not) he made in between commissions for the fun of it. No, really, it actually was junk. The commissions provided his main living stipend and the market sales he saved for ‘a rainy day’.

Katara thought her mad little thought over, and then decided to just roll with it.  
“Hey Zuko!” She shouted as he pulled the tarp over the back of his pickup to secure his merchandise.

“Yeah?”

“If I can get a piece done for tomorrow, could I add it to your stand?”

“Sure! But didn’t you say that you’ll be painting?”

“It’s acrylic! It’ll not take long to dry!”

“Well hurry up then! What are you going to paint anyways?”

Katara grinned down at Zuko from her window and shouted back, “The lilacs!” before running to her easel.

Nothing in her sketchbook seemed to come close to the real-life representations, but she could work around that. She didn’t need to do still life. She could be abstract. And there was the sunshine on the water of the pond, and there were the newly blooming lilacs surrounding it.

Katara mixed her paints and touched brush to canvas.  
…  
Three years, eleven months and twenty-four days ago Zuko began the cleaning up process of Foh Tech, aka he started his first day at the company.   
The usual bouquets, congratulatory notes and such greeted him as he walked into his fa-his office. And almost immediately his phone began to ring, he answered without looking at the  number.

“Heya!” Katara’s immediately said. “Did you get them?”

Zuko smiled slightly, “Get what?”

“Oooh. You better have got them or else heads will roll.”

“Kats, what do you mean?”

“The flowers!”

Zuko paused, brought his phone away from his face and stared incredulously at it before asking, “You got me flowers?”

“Of course I did! You’re first day on the job and I know you’re going to do great. Besides, anyone tries funny business with our team and heads start rolling yeah?”

Zuko chuckled “Yeah. Which ones are yours?”

“The lilacs!”

“The lilacs?”

Zuko glanced around searching for a mainly lilac with sprays of other flowers bouquet. He didn’t see one. In fact, if he were to look for lilacs then…

“You gave me straight up lilacs, nothing added on?”

“Uh huh!”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Well, see. I don’t have any other messages to send than that.”

“Okay, you lost me Kats.”

“The language of flowers. Look it up, it might come in useful someday – maybe, I don’t know. But lilacs are my personal favourite flowers to give to my family and friends. And Zuko, you do know you’re both right?”

Zuko rolled his eyes fondly, “You don’t take down several triad groups without considering your team that I reckon. What message are you trying to send via flowers anyway?”

“I have faith in you. Remember that okay?” And with that, Katara hung up.

…

That day Zuko had, indeed, looked up a guide to the language of flowers. And Katara had kept on sending those lilacs. He tended to get more from her (arriving alongside the takeout she apparently ordered as a reminder to eat) during deal season.

Lilacs ended up becoming a very dear flower to his heart. So much so that after fixing up the smithy, he purchased several late-blooming lilac shrubs and hired a gardener to landscape his backyard with them.

Those were the same lilacs Katara had sent to him, and now was painting.

…

Zuko shook his head.

“Of course she’d paint the lilacs.” He muttered to himself. Really, if he was truthful, he was somewhat expecting it.

Then, unbidden the other meaning of the flowers came to the forefront of his mind, ‘Lilacs also represent a person’s first realisation of love’, he thought.

And just like he did nearly three years ago, he shoved it to the back of his mind.


	5. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing my 'I guess I am sticking to the usual theme' theme, is fever! I don't know. I'll probably expand this another time. Just not this time. add more Sokka later.

_‘An abnormally high body temperature, usually accompanied by shivering, headache, and in severe instances, delirium.’_

_‘A state of nervous excitement.’_

* * *

Three years, eleven months and three days ago, Katara and Zuko sat quietly in the safe house’s conservatory.

Katara idly stirred a cup of hot chocolate, Zuko sipped silently at his mug of ginger tea.

Aang had finally succumbed to the flu that had been going around for a month, of course, since he had resisted all other variants of the bug, he had ended up with the strongest strain possible. Which was accompanied by a fever so high he ended up in ice baths more often than not and medication that kept Aang pretty much unconscious the entire time.

Zuko placed his mug down, staring into the amber depths of his tea contemplatively. “Katara?”

“Yeah?”

“After this, what happens next?”

“I don’t know really, it’s been a pretty wild ride hasn’t it?”

Zuko smiled.

“Not quite what I meant. I pretty much know what I am going to be doing – don’t have much of a choice about it really – I just, you know, wanted to, if you didn’t mind telling me, know, again! If you don’t mind –”

“Zuko! Remember what I told you about questions, form the question in your mind, and then _ask_. It’s perfectly fine to.”

“– What do you think you’d be doing after all this.”

“Not medicine.”

Zuko paused for a beat, stared at her and asked somewhat incredulously, “Well why ever _not_?”

“It just seems that that’s what _everyone_ defines me as. Katara – the girl who got her nursing degree alongside her A-Levels. Katara – the one _everyone_ protects (aside from Aang) because she needs to be well in case someone gets hurt. Katara – the medic. Katara – the healer. Katara – the nurturer. What if I don’t _want_ to be that? What if I want to be Katara – the girl who caused three-quarters of the guards protecting Azula to defect? Katara – the girl whose words crushed her mother’s murderer? Katara – the negotiator that always strikes the best deal for her side of the table?”

“Then you be that Katara.” Came Zuko’s quiet response to the fevered, impassioned speech Katara was working her way into. “Be the Katara that makes you happiest. And we’ll support you.”

“But Aang!”

“Aang will deal. Sokka will deal. But you are first and foremost my friend – my _best_ friend really (Sokka aside). We’ll learn to go somewhere else if you’re tired. It’s unfair for you to just continue succumbing to the expectations ‘we’ have for you. Be Katara, and we’ll deal.”

…

It was September – the bit of September that wasn’t quite summer or autumn but that weird limbo. Zuko had been letting the flat above to Katara for something like five months now. Sokka (unknowingly) had finally sent something awfully strange as a preliminary drawing (Zuko still couldn’t tell what it was. Well, he could make out something – but it looked pretty phallic and he was sure Sokka didn’t intend that), Zuko had responded with a very simple ring design – along with a question about the stone choice (Sokka apparently was still hem-ing and haw-ing about it).

And Katara was ill.

Through some failure in the health system (all those Swiss cheese holes had somehow aligned), the village general practitioner was on annual leave, the emergency GP was on sick leave and the nearest Accidents and Emergencies department available (because some government hoo-hah had decided that only _certain_ hospitals should have an A &E, closing down the nearest hospital’s A&E a month back) was an hour and a half away.

And Katara was ill.

Zuko knew how to treat a common cold, but this looked bad. As in Aang just before and during the ‘take-down’ bad. But Aang had doctors on hand and a whole Team (this time including Suki, she had been assigned to the team as Aang’s substitute in the final take-down just in case) looking after him in shifts. This time, there was just Zuko.

And Katara was ill.

Zuko had worried when she didn’t meet up for lunch, but decided that maybe she was having an ‘introvert’ day and left it alone for about three hours till he realised that if Katara wanted a quiet day, she’d tell. So he let himself into her flat with his ‘landlord’ set, checked through her flat before knocking on her bedroom door.

And Katara was ill.

Her pyjamas were drenched in sweat. She was muttering things. Her bedding seemed to have gone the way of her pyjamas. Underneath the mocha of her skin she somehow appeared flushed and pale all at the same time. Her breathing was laboured.

Katara was ill.

And Zuko was panicking.

…

Sokka picked up his mobile, not really looking at the number calling, focusing on his drawing of the second preliminary draft of Suki’s engagement ring.

“Ello.”

“Sokka, Katara’s ill.”

Sokka did a double take of his phone, the number had changed but that was definitely Zuko.

“Zuko? Two years mister! Two years! Why I ought –”

“Not the time. Katara’s ill. I’ve got her in an ice bath. I’ve been feeding her flu and fever meds. Sokka, it’s not getting better. It’s –”

“Come on buddy, breathe.”

Zuko was competent but terrible during treatment of _anything_ , as Sokka recalled. He’d work right alongside Katara, helping her hold down some patients and administering some preliminary treatments as a first-aider and herbalist (thanks to Uncle Iroh) to tide them over till Katara could give them a once-over and either finish up the treatment or hand them over to a doctor if it looked beyond her. So yes, he was competent. But he was also terrible, terrible in the sense that if he had a chance to break (or if no patients were looking directly at his face) he’d be panicking the entire time.

Sokka knew. The Team got a good look at his ‘I am extremely panicked’ face every time he treated them. Apparently, he couldn’t fully do the same disconnect that allowed him to not look like he was afraid with them. Nope. They got ‘I will help you but I feel so, so frightened for you and me and what if I don’t get this right’ Zuko, who was still competent in treatment (but terrifying because he couldn’t calm you _at all_ ).

And Zuko was probably doing the best he could, as competently as he could but right now he had a panicked Zuko and a sick baby sister on his hands.

“Zuko, it’ll be alright. Where are you and Katara? And how do you know where she is anyway?”

…

So, Sokka apparently didn’t hold the ‘no contact for the past nearly two years’ too much against him. That was good.

Katara was still in the ice bath, her temperature had come down somewhat. That was, not-so good but promising, somewhat.

Sokka was coming with Katara’s ‘cold-care pack’. That was also good.

Zuko knew that after this, he’d have quite _a lot_ of explaining to do. But he didn’t care. Katara was ill. Katara had a fever. Katara…

“Zuko?” Katara croaked.

“Katara!” He very nearly shouted as he quieted his voice, resulting in a strange, tangled twist of a thing.

“Hey.” She hoarsely said. “Thanks.”


	6. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given how awkward this chapter started out, I foolishly believed that it would be one of the shorter ones. Nope.
> 
> It’s the kind of awkward that keeps going and is all can’t stop won’t stop like.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Eastonia.

_‘A drink made from the roasted and ground beanlike seeds of a tropical shrub, served hot or iced.’_

* * *

 

It was four in the morning on the last day of September, two weeks after Sokka came down to help out with Katara’s recovery (from the flu).

And Zuko was up and emotion-baking, again.

Nervous baking to be more specific.

He had approximately five hours of sleep. But nope. He was not going to take a nap anytime soon – no he wasn’t.

…

Seven-thirty in the morning of the last day of September and Katara woke to the smell of baked goods.

So, of course that meant she needed to be in Zuko’s flat’s kitchen. Now.

He probably needed someone to talk to (never mind the fact that Katara was the best taste-tester ever. Sokka shovelled everything into his mouth. Katara shovelled everything into her mouth and could later give a better critique than, ‘that was good make it again’).

She silently made her way into his flat, mentally cheering when it opened and then closed soundlessly behind her. She peeked into the kitchen and fought not to grin.

Scones in all their variants (including the odd but yummy sausage, bacon, ham and cheese scone that Zuko had somehow come up with during the days of the ‘take down’). Four different types of bread: fruit and nut; cheese, ham and chives; bran, oat and seed; and a plain French loaf (all stuffed to the brim with their added ingredients). Breakfast muffins. A lemon-curd cheesecake. His take on a banoffee pie, rocky road and millionaire’s shortbread. Cinnamon buns drenched in a lemony, cream cheese dressing.

Also. Croissants and pain au chocolat. Enough said.

And Zuko was still mixing something in a large glass bowl.

He muttered something under his breath, mixed in some of their better vanilla essence (the thick, syrupy type that was speckled all over with vanilla seeds) and turned back to the hob, popping the bowl on top of a pot filled with bubbling water.

“Morning.” came a rather curt rendition of the greeting.

“How do you always do that?” she asked.

“WHL0 training, you guys never got the full thing. Be grateful.” As he replied he dumped the hot custard over yesterday’s blueberry pancakes (her contribution to breakfast, and she accidentally made enough to feed a small army. Also, since they didn’t feel like having pancakes for lunch, tea and dinner, they ended up with four large dinner plates worth in Zuko’s fridge – Katara overestimated by _a lot_ ).

Shrugging, she grinned at him and attempted to steal one of the traybakes.

“No touching the baked goods.”

“ _Why?_ ” She very nearly whined.

“Yours and mine are coming over today.”

Katara froze. “All of them?”

“Yup.”

“The kids?”

“Yeah.”

“Uncle and my dad?”

“Yes.”

“… _Suki?_ ”

“ _All_ of them.”

She sat.

“When did this happen?”

“When you were ill.”

“So the baking?”

“I’m really, really, _really_ nervous.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did!”

Katara suddenly recalled a rather serious looking Zuko sitting her down a week ago, after she had sufficiently recovered from that cold. “Oh. Yeah, you did.”

Her coffee mug landed in front of her. Just the way she liked it, too (enough whipped cream to cause a heart attack and homemade salted caramel sauce).

“They’re arriving at nine-ish.”

Something about the tone of his voice sent her straight into planning mode.

“Inside or outside?”

“Outside. Forecast says it’s going to be rather pleasant. Also, less of a need to vacuum after Sokka’s done eating.”

“Front or back?”

“Back patio.”

“Tables?”

Zuko gestured at the kitchen window.

“They aren’t set up yet but…”

“Say no more. I’ll handle set up you finish up here?”

“ _Thank you._ ”

…

Setting up was definitely easier than what Zuko was doing.

The wooden picnic tables (yes, tables. There were three) went up easily. Zuko had, apparently, dragged out the furniture from the stable/garage in between baking his storm up.

…

“They’re here.”

“Focus. We can do this.”

“Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh.”

“Breathe Katara. Breathe.”

“How are you not _panicking_ right now?”

“I think that I’ve reached that point of nervous baking in which I’ve become numb to everything but my sore, sore hands, arms and shoulders.”

Katara mentally winced in empathy was she watched Zuko gingerly try to rub said sore limbs and appendages.

…

The good news was that Toph, Aang and Suki seemed to take the same approach as Sokka (and now that he thought about it, Katara) when it came to his ‘I’m sorry I upped and left without much notice and went under radar and basically became a hypocrite spiel’.

They blamed Uncle.

“Gramps. You _know_ that if Zuko doesn’t want to be found, he _won’t_ be found. He was the one that hid us for well over _eight months_ when our safe house was discovered remember?”

Toph made a very valid point. Back then, during their ‘active’ period, Azula had somehow tracked them down. The safe house in which he met his team was discovered and then they were on the run. Somehow, he had managed to keep them hidden – in plain sight at that.

Oh well, better Uncle than him. Uncle would manage to get everyone to forgive him in the next ten minutes anyway.

…

True to Sokka-ish form, he had seen the food and… well, you get the picture. Hakoda Wai had followed his son’s suit. Toph was buried under cinnamon rolls. Aang, apparently, thought that Zuko was going to run out of toast – and was eating accordingly.

Katara felt like the entire coffee morning was _awkward_. And even though the Team had forgiven them (funny that, but then again, they were family – and nobody else on their team were as liable to hold a grudge as Katara knew she was…) the awkwardness had just headed in a different direction.

“So. When are you going to plant one on that?” Suki smirked at her.

“ _Suki_.”

“What? You’ve been, essentially, living together –”

“We have separate flats! _And_ neither of us have ever spent the night in the other’s!”

“You spend almost all your time together.”

“We’re neighbours!”

“You take meals together.”

“We grocery-pool!”

“You’ve been touching. A lot.”

“No we don’t.”

“Then again, you two did that a lot back then too.”

Katara paused. Really, she was rather glad that everyone else seemed distracted by Zuko’s baking. Then again, Suki was _Suki_. She spent the least amount of time in the Team (the Kyoshi Strike Force kept her rather busy), and somehow ended up the most perceptive.

It was pretty annoying.

“We didn’t.”

“You did. You also had this habit where you talked to or about each other around sixty-five percent of the time.”

“No…”

“Yes.”

“But!”

Suki fixed a knowing look at her as she sipped at her coffee.

“Katara. About three years and a bit ago you burst into my room – because, and I quote, ‘I can’t do this Suki, I can’t! I can’t have a crush on Zuko!’ remember?”

Katara blushed.

“I don’t really recall.”

“Don’t recall or don’t want to recall?” Suki sighed and grabbed a pain au chocolat. “Look Katara, you two are a good fit. Not in the ‘it makes sense’ way, although it _does_ , but in the well… Look there is a reasons why we call you two the parents of our little group.”

All Katara could do was sit and stare at her coffee. Enough whipped cream to cause a heart attack and homemade salted caramel sauce.

Just the way she liked it.

…

Four years, seven months and twenty-four days ago Katara was up way earlier than usual.

And she hated coffee. She always dumped in enough sugar to chance at diabetes mellitus and usually just passed hot milk through her grinds.

But she needed coffee.

She had one of those nights where no matter how much she tried, she just couldn’t sleep. And it didn’t help that they were in a new place.

“Hey.”

Katara nearly jumped.

“Zuko! You could stand to be a little louder you know.”

He chuckled, sending warm waves of _something_ through her (truth be told, she was a little terrified of whatever that something was. Some part of her knew what it was, but she didn’t want to identify it) as he picked out his mug and poured in the chai concentrate.

He almost never drunk coffee. Funny how that little detail made her want to smile.

“Enjoying that mess?” He asked gesturing at her mug before turning around to switch on the coffee maker.

“ _Hard-ly._ ” She grimaced, “But it’s caffeine, and it’s the only way I can think of that _this_ becomes bearable.”

Zuko looked contemplative. “Could I try something?”

Katara passed him her mug. “Sure.”

And then she nearly strangled him for dumping out the coffee. But she waited.

And Zuko pulled out the leftover salted caramel sauce from his ‘adventures in baking’ and put a tablespoon of it in the mug. Then he grabbed some of the newly made black coffee and poured it in till it filled a third of the mug. Then he poured in about a sixth of the mug of milk and stirred, before topping it off _all_ the rest of the way with whipped cream and more sauce.

“Try that.”

Katara did. “Oh my gosh – I actually _liked_ that.”

“Had a feeling you would.”

Somehow, Katara wasn’t surprised that he knew exactly how to make a cup of coffee she liked. Zuko might be the fire-power in their team but, to her he was like ivy. He crept up on her and she found him in places of her life she didn’t expect.

It was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I got hungry? I actually have a tiny shoutout to the MacMillan’s World’s Biggest Coffee Morning in there. Zuko may or may not have bought much of his supplies for said coffee morning from them. Donate to your local cancer support charity people!


End file.
